Lucky You Lucky Me
by ChaosMagician86
Summary: After all that has happened between them, Egypt now goes to war. Will the young Pharaoh be able to cope with the loss of Bakura AND his country? And what of Bakura? Will the two ever be together again?
1. Black Cats and Broken Mirrors

**Lucky You; Lucky Me**

_Author notes: I do not own Bakura. I don't own Yami either. I own absolutely nothing in this fic including the spiffy song that Bakura sings about Thoth. That is from The Circle of __Isis__, a very happy and informative book. I own the plot. Wee. Lucky me.  (Title reference!) So enjoy it. It'll get better. Yami/Bakura yaoi… Teehee. Yummy-nummers. I don't own that phrase either. Sorry. Better luck next time. _

**Chapter 1: Black Cats and Broken Mirrors**

            A swish of a cloak, the bustle of business in full swing in the city of Thebes.  The citizens of Thebes barely noticed a certain white-haired stranger as he waltzed through the city-streets.

            He wore a look of proud determination, his face etched with the wear of a young man who had grown up more quickly than he should have.  If the people of Thebes could see what horrors he had seen, many would slit their own throats, unable to bear the pain and misery.

            Walking past a nearby vender, the young man grabbed an onion off the cart and took a bite, allowing the taste to invade his mouth.  The vender began to call out in protest, but after a silencing glare from the cloaked man, immediately shut his mouth.

            Without warning, a man dressed in official-looking robes began to shout heatedly to the crowd.

            "Move yer filthy hides! Make way for your Pharaoh! On your knees, peasants!" he growled menacingly.

            Glancing nervously at each other, the citizens began to move to the sides of the street. Raising a brow, the young man stood firmly in his place, quietly munching on the onion. The guard glared at him, placing his hand on the young man's shoulder.

            "I suggest that you step out of our way… before I decide that we don't want to wait for your smelly ass… peasant." hissed the guard in the man's ear.

            Smirking lightly, the man gave a mock bow, purposely kicking the dust up from the road. Grinning, he lifted his eyes to lock with the guard's. 

            "Then I shall move for his Highness. After all… who am I to insult the Holy-brat."  he snickered sarcastically. 

            SMACK! The guard's eyes flared dangerously as his hand flew across the man's tanned cheek. The young man recoiled, loosing his footing and falling to one knee. 

           "I demand your name, filthy rat! You speak treasonous words! It is dangerous ground upon which you now tread!" bellowed the guard, his hand poised to strike again; a venomous snake preparing to bite. Recovering from the blow, the man hid his eyes, glaring at the ground.

           "They used to call me… Bakura." he replied scathingly, his voice filled with malice. The guard sneered at his inappropriate retort, then grabbed him by his arm, pushing him off to the side with the rest of the peasants. 

           All of a sudden, a ripple of applause and joyous cheering began to surge through the throngs of people. Bakura perked his head up, clambering to his feet and brushing the dust and dirt out of his clothing, his eyes surveying the oncoming bustle of movement. 

           A procession was slowly approaching around the corner. A brightly colored litter was in the fore-front. Upon a silky purple pillow lay a young boy, no older than a fifteen year-old. Beside him on a second litter sat an older man. Bakura narrowed his eyes, his brain clicking in comprehension. 

           This was him. This trash was Akunumkanon; the source of his misery, the scourge of his life, the murderer of his village and loved ones. 

           _A gentle breeze from the East cooled the backs of the hard-working citizens of KuruEruna. Just outside of the small village's farthest outer walls sat a small boy, no older than five years old. He was digging tiny holes in the white desert sand with his chubby miniature fingers._

_         "Wisdom has wings. Wisdom can fly. Could wisdom come to one such as I? Teacher of Gods, Teacher of kings. Oh, I would learn from Thee, I would earn wings…" he sang softly to himself, holding a small doll in his other arm. _

_        He looked up, gazing at his beloved village. His dark eyes widened slightly as he watched strange men ride through the gates on white horses. Having never seen horses before, he picked up his belongings and rushed back to the village, his breath catching in his throat as his stumbled through the sparkling white dunes._

_            As he ran closer and closer, he could hear heated conversations rising over the granite walls. Cursing and angry words floated to the child's ears, causing him to slow down slightly in fear._

_            The walls neared slowly. He could see dark wisps of smoke unfurling themselves toward the blue sky. The sounds of slaughter and splattering blood replaced the conversations. The frightened child stopped at a small break in the wall, trembling with the dread of what he might find._

_           Screams of women and children pierced the fading afternoon air. Men and their sons fell one by one, like cattle dying of the plague. Desperate husband's and father's throats were cut, splattering their shrieking wives and daughters faces with their thick red blood. _

_            Men in armored robes piled the bodies of the deceased off to one side. Tears dripped from the young boy's eyes, falling down the bridge of his sun-washed nose. His eyes scanned the area of the village, searching for some sign of his family. What he saw would literally scar him for the rest of his life. _

_            Atop the pile of bloody corpses was his mother. Patches of her hair were torn from her scalp and rivulets of dark blood flowed down her fragile face. Her clothes were torn from her body; only small pieces of cloth melted on her broken body remained._

_            The little boy stifled a cry of terror, his stomach convulsing into tight knots and slowly releasing through his mouth. He looked around for some escape, some outlet for his intense emotional pain. He found his answer in a small rusty knife. Vowing never to forget the desecration of his people, he slit his own cheek, once in a vertical line, twice in two horizontal lines._

_            He sobbed desperately, wanting so badly to die; to be with his mother. He could smell the flesh of his people burning, melting the bones of their bodies. Curling up in the fetal position, he closed his eyes, wanting to float away… wanting to be a part of the growing darkness… _

The parade faded into the distance, the sudden movement of the crowd startling Bakura out of his trance. His dark eyes narrowed as he grabbed a random passer-by, pulling him close.

            "Tell me, friend. Where might I find the palace of the young Pharaoh?" asked Bakura amiably. The man removed Bakura's hand from his shoulder, tsking lightly at him.

            "And why in Ra's name should I tell you, stranger?!" he retorted, dusting the place where Bakura's hand had just been as if Bakura were just another soiled scoundrel.

Bakura grabbed the man by the front of his garb, pressing his face close to his own.

            "Answer me." The man's eyes widened with fear, struggling against Bakura's grip. He looked around, as if searching for help. Bakura grinned, seeing the look of terror on the man's pale face and thoroughly enjoying it. 

            "Oh, and don't bother shouting for help, friend. A word would no sooner escape your lips lest I place my cold steel across thy throat…" Bakura added scathingly. Stuttering horrendously, the man pointed toward a large obstruction at the center of the city. 

            Bakura grinned, nodding gently and tossing the man into a stand of watermelons. He began to strut toward the obstruction, its tall golden towers coming slowly into his view. So… this was the stronghold of the enemy… the mouth of the lion. He laughed to himself. 

            He would have to be careful… He needed a good, no, a great plan if he was to accomplish anything. The young Pharaoh's face crept into his mind. 

            Sneering at the palace, he turned away, his robes flying in a sudden gust of wind. He would return… and he was not about to be stung by that black-hearted scorpion. 


	2. Treading on Broken Memories

_Author's Note: Alright. I've only gotten three reviews for this fic… which, might I add, I worked VERY hard on…Did I mention I researched Egypt so as not to make any crucial mistakes about the actual HISTORY? * **pouts*** But hey. I feel that if I continue to update, hopefully I'll get a few more people to like my story. Thank you to Kaitourei, WhiteBakura, and fani90 for your praise. And, yes, fani90, it is indeed Yami Bakura. Sorry if I didn't make that clear enough… ^_^;; Also, warning! This contains traced of yaoi between Bakura/Yami. You are warned. Anyway, this is the second chapter. Hope you all enjoy it. Oh yeah! And I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. If I did, Anzu would not exist. XD_

_*Ushabti: Egyptians made small figures out of wood or other materials to place in the tombs of loved ones. Usually, the ushabti resembled the person that it was made for._

Chapter 2: Treading on Broken Memories 

            Night crept stealthily over the city of Thebes. As a cloud passed though the black sky hiding the stars from view, a cloaked figure moved quickly in between the darkened buildings. 

            While Egypt slept in its unaware cocoon, a plot was afoot; a plot filled with malicious intent. A shadow even darker than the night between the tall elaborate structures slid across the road towards the palace of the young Pharaoh. 

            Unaware of the figure running tirelessly towards his home, young Yami, Pharaoh of Egypt slept in a state of carefree bliss. His hair, spiky and aflame with passionate color was spread across his black satin pillow. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he rolled over onto his left side. 

            Bakura lifted the cloak and wrapped it tightly around his face, hiding all of his features except for his eyes. Gazing up at the palace, he reconsidered and pulled his cloak back down, exposing his skin to the cool night air. He sneered evilly and spat on the steps leading toward the stronghold of his cursed enemy. 

            Yami's amethyst eyes fluttered open, his brain too full to sleep. His thoughts drifted back and forth between royal issues, trying to figure out how to deal with the pressures of his crown. Sitting up in his bed, he ran one hand through his hair, another sigh erupting from the depths of his soul. 

            Slllliiish… what a lovely sound slitting a person's throat made. Bakura watched the two bodies of the royal guards slide down the wall and land in heaps at his feet. He smirked bending down and examining his work. 

            "So this… this is what you felt when you massacred my people. Pure ecstasy…" he crooned, licking the warm blood off of the knife's slender edge. 

            "Such a cruel fate… to feel the bite of a knife against warm flesh… Tsk… what a way to go…" he continued to mutter. He glanced down the hallway, making sure that he was alone. He smirked and continued to walk, talking to himself as he went.

            "No more guards? What a place… and I thought that the Pharaoh was a God." He laughed, making his way to what he hoped would be the Pharaoh's room. His eyes shone brightly, reflecting the glint of his knife, his face twisted in a frightening grin. 

            He stopped at a set of double-doors decorated with gold-leafing and beautiful intricate carvings. This… this was surely it. He would get his revenge on Akunumkanon. He would start by taking the only thing Akunumkanon cared about… his beloved whelp of a son! Bakura placed his hands on the doors… began to slowly push…

            "INFIDEL! STOP! I DEMAND THAT YOU EXPLAIN YOURSELF!" roared a royal guard racing around the corner to protect his Pharaoh. 

            Bakura quickly removed his hands from the doors, searching for an escape route. Finding nothing but more guards swarming around him, he cursed softly under his breath. He pressed his back against the doors as the guard's advanced on him, wielding their swords.                 

            Just then, the doors swung open. Bakura found himself leaning against nothing and lost his balance, falling backwards into the arms of non other that the young Pharaoh. Bakura looked up, studying the delicate features of the boy. His large light-purple eyes were wide with shock, his hair mussed from the hours he had spent sleeping. Bakura found himself immersed and could not remove his eyes…

            And then he was snatched up by the guards. Yami watched in terror as they dragged a kicking and screaming man from his arms. Shaking, Yami pulled the robe up tightly over his chest.

            "Get in there you… Akunumkanon will decide your fate." growled one of the larger guards. Bakura watched them leave through the lighted doorway. He kept his eyes on the burning flame until all of the lights went out and he was left alone; surrounded by the hungry darkness.

            A few days and a few nights had already passed; Bakura couldn't really tell how many days had exactly gone by. Rats scurried through the small puddles of dirty water that were scattered throughout the cramped cell. 

            Bakura hadn't had any water or food for about a day now. He would have tried to drink the water in the puddles, but having seen a rat drop dead in one of them earlier on brought him no desire to kill himself faster. 

            The room began to turn violently as he tried desperately to call out for water. He parched and swollen throat had closed up and his voice seemed to have vanished. Bakura's eyes rolled back in his head. He slumped forward onto the ground, sinking into the depths of his subconscious. 

            _Bakura carefully ran his copper knife over the surface of the wood, carving it into a small person-like figure. His mother, her face hidden in shadow watched him closely, her skilled hands guiding his own._

_            "Is this alright, mother?" little Bakura asked. He held out the figure to her, his face filled with the pride of his accomplishment.        _

_            As he held it up for her to see, the knife slid out of his small fingers. Bakura let out a pained yelp. The knife clattered against the table, its tip stained with the child's innocent blood. Bakura held his finger tenderly, staring at the crimson liquid that began to ooze out of it. _

_            Bakura's ushabti* figure lie on the table, forgotten. For the first time in his life, Bakura associated blood with pain… soon after pain became anger, but eventually faded. His mother carefully stopped the flow of blood with a rag, smiled and wiped away his tears. Bakura was then sent to do the remainder of his chores._

_            After a long day of labor, Bakura was finally allowed to rest. His mother placed a cloth blanket over him, tussling his hair and placing the ushabti figure next to his bed-side. _

_            Bakura awoke to a soft crying sound. His eyes quickly focused in the darkness of his room and began to flash about the room, searching for the source of the sound. After a moment of scanning, his eyes came to rest on a small figure next to his bed. _

_            It was the ushabti figure that he had finished earlier… but something was horribly wrong with it. Bakura fumbled for a candle and some lint, and with shaking hands, quickly lit the candle. His breath caught in his throat as he looked closely at the ushabti._

_            Blood poured from its eye-sockets, soaking his blanket and clothing. A miserable wailing noise emanated from its closed lips as it stared blankly at Bakura's shaking form. _

_            Bakura covered his eyes and began to sob, rocking back and forth as he tried to escape from the splitting sound of the ushabti's crying…_

His eyes shot open at the sound of keys rattling. Bakura tried to sit up, but a sharp pain surging through his body told him he would not be able to. 

            "God dammit…" he thought. "I'm just lying here… an easy target…"

            A figure entered his cell, carefully closing the door behind him. Slowly the figure walked closer, coming into the dim light. Bakura's eyes widened in disbelief. 

            The young Pharaoh stood before him, his eyes wide with fear and misunderstanding. His wrists were adorned with precious metals and gems and his hair was spiked high above his head. Bakura almost longed to touch it.

            "…who are you? Why did you attempt my kidnapping?" asked the Pharaoh quietly. Bakura smirked and said nothing. Hell, even if he wanted to reply, his throat was parched and burning; his voice gone. The Pharaoh let out a sigh and pulled a flask from his bag. Bending down, he poured some cool water into Bakura's mouth.

            "Now… answer my question…" he inquired again. Bakura grinned and laughed mirthlessly. 

            "Even if I was going to answer you, oh Holy brat, do you really think you can trust me?" Bakura sneered. He wasn't about to be pushed around by some kid. The Pharaoh's eyes flared and his hand flew across Bakura's face. Bakura had the odd feeling of dejavu… 

            "Answer me or I shall have you killed! Do you not know to whom you speak, peasant?" he cried indignantly. Bakura sighed, looking up into the Pharaoh's eyes. 

            "I am Bakura. I attempted to kidnap you because your cursed father murdered my people. I am from the village of KuruEruna. I saw my mother burn all because of your family, and now I have come back for revenge. If you think I'm insane, that's probably because I am, but you would be too if you saw your mother's flesh burn in front of your very eyes. Did I mention I was only five when this all happened?" Bakura smiled, talking as if it were no big deal. He had explained this to so many people, what did it matter if he explained it to one more? The Pharaoh's face fell. 

            Looking towards the ground, Yami recalled what had happened at KuruEruna. Of course his father had explained to him… but the brutality hadn't been mentioned until now. The genocide of a village?… No. His father could not have been… It couldn't have happened like that…

            Silence echoed throughout the dungeon. Neither of the two spoke for a few minutes. Yami finally broke the silence.

            "Alright… if it means that much to you…" he held out his arms to Bakura. "Then… I order you to kidnap me." 


	3. FourLeafed Clover

Disclaimer: Hello, and welcome to chapter three. I know this story hasn't had a very big response, but I figure… well, this story is more for me and my friend Liz than anything else. It was a random idea and I plan to take it to the end. I have some great ideas to expand upon so… expect better chapters! 

_            To answer a question posed to me about Yami's father, the reason he's still alive, and the ONLY reason he's still alive, is for plot element. I know that it's not exactly how the history of Yami's family goes but… Obviously, a new pharaoh is only chosen right before the first pharaoh dies, so it also doesn't quite fit with Egyptian culture. Again, it's only plot element. I know there are a couple holes in my writing, but bear with me and try to ignore my lack of better things to use. Oh and don't worry… He WILL die in the end… heh-heh. _

_            And, as always, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh for if I did, Anzu would not exist._

Chapter 3: Four-Leafed Clover 

            Bakura stared at Yami in disbelief. Was he actually giving himself to him? Perhaps his plan had not been in vain… 

            Yami stood before him, arms still outstretched. His eyes were focused and determined. Bakura let out a small giggle.

            "Stupid… are you actually allowing yourself, the almighty Pharaoh, to be kidnapped by a common thief such as myself?" Bakura began to laugh maniacally, as if possessed by the hatred of a thousand years. "You fool! Once you trespass in my soul, you can never go back! Are you prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice, just for my revenge against your father?!"

            "I do not understand the details. I know about KuruEruna, but my father… He could never do such a thing! I will go with you. You can do what you will with me. But in the end… Bakura! I will prove you wrong!" 

            The two faced each other, and for a moment, it seemed as if they both resided in the same universe. Bakura knew that he and this boy were worlds apart, but he couldn't help but feel, at that very moment, that they were equals. A thief and a Pharaoh; what a ludicrous tale! But… if it would help him achieve his vengeance and put his dear mother's soul to rest…

            "Alright, Pharaoh. You do the work to get out of the palace, and I will show you the pain of my village. I will have you experience the torture of my people. Are you prepared?" Bakura asked. It was not a rude question, nor was it filled with malice. It was just a question, something Bakura never would have expected of himself. 

            Yami nodded. His mind was made up. He would go with Bakura and learn of the true fate of KuruEruna. 

            _Bakura ran through the shifting sands of the desert, trying desperately to get away from the smell of burning flesh. His face seared with sharp pain, blood leaking down his cheek and toward his neck. His eyes burned, images of murder scorched into his mind. _

_            Tears mixed with blood and dirt stung his pores, stinging vehemently. How long had he been running? He couldn't tell anymore. Time and space were of no importance anymore. Where could he go? He had no home, no family… Without them, he didn't exist. He was just another nameless orphan, running from a past he had no control over. _

_            Sobbing, he flung himself to the ground, clawing at his eyes and nose. Why wouldn't the smell go away?! Why wouldn't the visions of death leave his mind?! Why could he still hear the agonizing screams of his mother?! What would become of him…?_

_            He began to wipe his eyes, wondering what his mother would think of him right now. A pain surged through his face, and he quickly moved his hand away. Dammit, he had forgotten what he had done…_

_            "Weakling…" he moaned to himself. "You're so weak… Stop being such a wimp!" he cried, smacking himself in the face, hitting his still-bleeding scar. A whimper of pain escaped his lips. Angry with his frailty, he hit himself again and again. He continued to feel pain. _

_            Bakura began to scream the obscenities he had heard from the village. He began to tear at the scar, beating himself over and over again. Until finally, after all of the torture he put himself through, he became numb to the pain. _

_            Bakura sat there, broken in the sand. He watched the night sky begin to fade into dawn, the horizon aflame with color. All that remained of his tears was a bit of salt residue left on his bloody cheeks. Finally, he was ready._

_            He stood, facing the new day with devotion and commitment. He knew who he was. A sick and twisted grin spread over his face. He had come to grips with the fact that his mother was dead; that his village was gone, burned to the ground… and that he, Bakura, had died with them._

Bakura followed behind Yami, his eyes traveling over the elegant beauty of the palace. He had never seen such wealth. Moving his eyes forward, he surveyed the Pharaoh for the first time. 

            He was gorgeous, a true royal figure. Bakura snickered, wondering if Akunumkanon was really his father. After all, he certainly didn't get his looks from that dirty rat. 

            "So, Pharaoh. What shall I call you? I'm sure you don't appreciate being called 'Pharaoh' **all** the time." Bakura inquired teasingly. Yami turned and hushed him, pushing him up against a wall. Two guards passed, both looking rather uninterested in the events of the palace. Yami turned to him, a small smirk on his face.

            "My proper name is Yami. You may use that if you wish." Bakura smiled. 

            "Yami, eh? Then that is what you shall be called. Or maybe…" Bakura lifted Yami's chin up, staring down into his eyes. "…Or maybe I'll just call you slave." Yami cringed, his eyes narrowing in anger. Yami raised his hand, preparing to slap him, but Bakura grabbed it, pressing it back against the wall.

            "Don't even try it. Slap me once, that's alright. Slap me twice, however… then I kill you." he growled, not even a trace of humor in his voice. Yami finally stopped struggling. Bakura released him and pushed him forward a bit. 

            "Now… keep leading." Yami nodded, quickly moving about the palace. 

            After about twenty minutes of long corridors and endless doors, they reached the exit of the palace. Bakura grinned, and pulled out some rope from inside his robes.

            "Now then. Time to make you my prisoner, Pharaoh. Oh, excuse me… _Yami. If you try anything funny, just remember how quickly I can kill you." Bakura sneered, forcefully grabbing Yami's arms and tying them behind his back. Yami breathed in deeply, repressing the urge to cry out for help. If he was to learn anything, he had to allow this heathen to enjoy his little game._

            Bakura lead Yami down the stairs, turning back and spitting on them once again. 

            "Couldn't you make this rope a little less tight? At this rate, I'll get rope burn…" Yami protested, struggling a bit against the binding on his arms. Bakura leaned forward, glaring at him. 

            "You are not in control here… **I** am the one who will decide what happens to you, brat!" Bakura reached up and smacked Yami across the face. Yami faltered, teetering from side to side, his eyes wide with shock. He had never been slapped before by anyone; not even his father. 

            "H-how dare you?! Do not forget that **I** am the one who released you, filth! I can just as easily call out to my father and have you executed immediately! Bakura grabbed his face, pulling it close to his own. 

            "And now… now I see what your father gave you. His wicked malice." Bakura whispered. Yami looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but an empty vessel for rage. Bakura finally released Yami from his grip. He moved behind him and loosened the rope a bit. 

            "There. Now walk, Pharaoh." he bellowed, pushing him forward slightly with his hand. 

            _People whispered amongst themselves as they watched the young boy wander into their city. He was tanned from the hot Egypt sun, sweat rolling down his body. His face was covered in dirt and dried blood, a small scar flaming across his left cheek. His hair was white and filled with knots, his eyes deep and soulless. _

_            Bakura looked around at the people of the city, his mouth parched. He wandered over to a local cart and took a sip from a barrel of water near-by. _

_            "Hey, boy! You cannot do that unless you intend to pay for that water!" yelled the merchant. Bakura glared up at the man, his face twisting into an expression of rage. The man took a step back as Bakura began to growl, his teeth bared. _

_            Bakura continued to wander, his throat now slowly recovering from the cool water. People moved quickly out of his path; strangers were not very welcome in their city. _

_            "White-haired devil…" spoke a man quietly to his wife. "That child must have seen something incredibly hellish to have that kind of hair color…" Bakura looked over at them. The couple gasped and ran into a shop. Bakura looked down at his tattered clothes. He must have looked pitiful._

_            "Child of Set… Evil thing… White-haired devil…" The names and insults followed him closely as he continued to walk through the city. His shoulders drooped as he stared at the ground. Finally, a man spoke up._

_            "G-get out of our city, you devil! No one needs your evil here! We have enough troubles without **you** being here!" he shouted, throwing a stone at little Bakura. The stone soared through the air and hit Bakura straight in the nose. _

_            He howled with pain, holding onto his bloody nose. The crowd looked at each other, and seeing no harm in doing so, all began to throw stones at Bakura. Bakura cowered, raising his arms defensively. Blindly, he ran through the crowd, running into things as he went. Rocks flew at him from all directions, cutting through his skin, making him bleed. _

_            By the time he had passed through the gate and back out into the desert, his body was covered in bruises and blood, pain surging through his limbs. He fell to his knees in the sand, flopping forward onto his stomach. His breathing was short and hard, sand mixing with his blood and sticking to his cuts. _

_            Bakura looked back at the city gates. They were now closed. He had been shunned. For the second time, the people whom he thought he could trust had cast him out. Sitting up, he tried to brush the sand from his body, but the excruciating throbbing of his wounds would not allow him to. _

_            Tears fell from his eyes, making small pools in the sand. He curled up, wanting to die. His mother would have protected him…She would know what to do. Bakura's small shaking form, hot from the desert sun was only a tiny dot in Egypt. _

_            "Stop it… stop crying, you whelp!" he began to tell to himself. "You piece of shit… get up! You stupid, stupid child!!" Bakura sat up, hitting himself across the face. "You worthless boy! How dare you rest while our soul is still writhing in agony! Bakura knows what he must do… Bakura will take his revenge on this hellish land!" he crooned, beginning to refer to himself in third person. _

_            He howled with rage as his tears began to flow openly down his cheeks, his body writhing in pain. _

_            "I hate you! I hate all of you! I want you all to die! I shall be the one to take your body and smash it… I shall run you through with my blade… I shall stone you all to death!" he ranted, his face contorting in anger. "In the end… the world will wither and shrivel to dust… and then, I shall be the last one standing…" Bakura's small laughter echoed through the desert as darkness descended upon Egypt._

Yami watched small dust clouds rise up from the ground as the pair continued to walk. He sighed deeply, wondering how he had ever gotten himself to agreed to this pointless charade.

            "Where are we going, Bakura? I demand to know." he stated. Bakura just stared forward, his face expressionless. Yami decided to just give up speaking to him and focus on a way to get out of the situation. 

            Just as he had begun to think, Bakura stopped him. Yami looked back at him.

            "Why are we stopping? We're in the middle of the cursed desert, Bakura! Have you lost your mind?" he protested. Bakura let out a small laugh. 

            "Sorry, Pharaoh. My mind was lost a very long time ago. Behold! KuruEruna!" he cried out, pointing downward. Yami blinked in the darkness, looking down toward where Bakura was pointing. The darkness made it too hard to see.

            "Bakura… I see nothing. Are you positive?" he questioned. Bakura seemed a bit nutty to him… It was possible that all he wanted to do was drag him out into the desert and kill him.

            Suddenly, the sun began to creep over the horizon, the desert illuminated with bright light. Yami blinked in the sudden change. His eyes slowly came into focus… 

            Yami gasped, his eyes wandering over the ruins of an ancient village. What looked like buildings were crumbling to dust, scorch marks on their stone sides. Old walls and foundations were all but gone, leaving the beholder with only a glimpse of what the village used to be. 

            Bakura grinned at the shock on Yami's face. Finally, Yami had finally seen what Bakura had wanted him to see. The burned remains of his memories; KuruEruna. 

            _Well? What did everyone think of chapter three? * watches as three people give her a thumbs up * …Oh poo. I forgot. Nobody is bothering to **read** my story. * choked sob * Anyway, it's getting a bit more interesting, now isn't it? Heh heh. Hopefully this story will attract more readers… if not, I'll just continue to write for those who do appreciate this story. Thanks, and keep reading!_


	4. Throw Me a Grain of Salt

Disclaimer: Alright. I understand quite a few people had a bit of a problem with my last announcement. Look, I know I'm VERY luck to even get reviews on my fanfiction. I feel very privileged to have people give me their comments and their feedback. However, I think we all have the wrong misconception about the REASON I want reviews.

_            Reviews are not to inflate my ego; I have my friends for that. They are not a tool to show off to people; I could care less how many she or he has. Reviews are my way of knowing that I am doing a decent job and also for people to tell me what they like or did not like within my writing. Reviews help me to understand the reader's perspective of my fic and to judge the criticism I receive to make the fic BETTER. Reviews are not for me. They are for YOU. _

_            Hell, I have a nine-chapter long fic and I only have thirty-five reviews for it! But I don't mind because the people that DO review are giving me helpful criticisms that make my writing better each time I update. _

_            So the next time you feel that I'm being selfish about not getting enough reviews for the amount of chapters I have posted, remember that I want you to review because I want to make the next chapter better than the last… either that or I have come to a stumbling point, as I have with THIS chapter, and I need to know where people think I should go from here on. _

_            I really do not at this point in my disclaimer know exactly what will happen with this chapter. It's a bit of 'on the fly' writing. I think you, the readers, deserve a really good chapter after my announcement and I intend to give it to you. So, I guess I should probably just start the fic while I'm on such a great roll with the disclaimer… _

_            As usual, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh. That's Kazuki Takahashi's department… But if I did…say it with me…  * chorus * Anzu would not exist! _

Chapter 5: Throw Me a Grain of Salt 

Sunlight flowed into the ruins of KuruEruna with a soft, radiant glow. It seemed to Yami as if the entire city were aflame. His eyes traveled over the broken buildings; for him, it seemed unnatural. 

            The village was quiet as a tomb, silence emanating from ever pore, every crack, every piece telling its own story in words that he could not hear. As the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, the village looked as if the flames were spreading, engulfing the entire desert with its heat. 

            Yami dropped to his knees, dust rising about his body. His face wore an expression of shock and dismay. Bakura placed his hand on Yami's shoulder, bending down as he watched his face for signs of emotion. 

            "…Now, Pharaoh. Do you understand? Do you understand my hatred of your father?" he whispered. Yami shook his hand off, staring at him in disbelief. 

            "You stupid thief! You expect me to believe that **my** father did this?! I would not be surprised if it were actually **you** who burned this village to the ground!" he shouted vehemently, his shoulders shaking with rage. Bakura stepped back, his eyes widening. 

            "Y-you… You think that **I** could do this to my own people… my own family?! How foolish can you be?! I know you've lived in a golden-lined cage your entire life, but this is just common sense! How could you…?" he stopped in mid-sentence, turning his back to Yami. The cool breeze that Bakura remembered so well from his childhood blew his long hair back over his shoulders, his eyes hidden from view. Finally, he spoke again.

            "…You can go back now if you want, Pharaoh. If I cannot convince you, then it is not my place to keep you here against your will." Yami stared at Bakura's back for a long time. He could go now… he didn't have to stay and be this madman's prisoner anymore… But then it hit him. What if, -and of course, it was a very big if-, his father **had** burned this village? Why had he hidden it from his only son? 

            "I have decided, Bakura." Bakura turned and looked at Yami. His golden jewelry glowed in the sun, forming an aura about his body. To Bakura, he looked like a true God, the way he had imagined a proper Pharaoh to look. It made his eyes hurt and his mouth run dry. 

            "I will stay with you until you show me proof that what you claim is true. However, if you do not give me the proof I deem worthy, I shall have you beheaded for telling lies about my father and for kidnapping me. These are crimes that normally I shall not permit, but…" he stated, trying to sound as royal as he could. Yami stared into Bakura's eyes, showing him who was boss. Bakura gave a small snicker.

            "Yes… your royal brattiness." he gave a mock bow to him and began to walk down to the remains of the village. Yami glared after him, wondering yet again what he had gotten himself into. 

_"Wisdom has wings. Wisdom can fly. Could wisdom come to one such as I? Teacher of Gods, Teacher of kings. Oh, I would learn from Thee, I would earn wings…"_

_            Bakura sat in a small alleyway, eating a piece of bread he had stolen from a local cart. The new city he had entered just this morning intrigued him. But so did all the others. And, naturally, he could not stay in one place for more than a day and a night. Any longer and the taunts began again…_

_            He tore at the bread with his teeth, ripping off a large piece. Bread was not enough… He needed something more. Bakura looked down the street at a meat shop, but it was too risky. If he was caught… Of course, there was a greater risk of actually being caught, seeing as a piece of meat was a bit different than a piece of bread. _

_            His stomach rumbled at the site of a small lamb leg being handed to a customer. It looked so delicious… Perhaps just this once wouldn't hurt…_

_            Finishing the last of his bread, he stood up, stretching nonchalantly. Bakura glanced around a few times before re-entering the busy street, walking through small groups of people, surveying the carts as if nothing was amiss. As he got closer and closer to the meat-cart, his heart began to race. _

_            Bakura wiped his sweaty palms on the sides of his robes, his eyes darting back and forth. Just a bit more… and he was there, standing before the meat-cart._

_            "May I help you, young man?" asked the vender politely, his eyes giving Bakura a look-over. Bakura smiled, beginning to sweat profusely. _

_            "W-well, um… I'm not really sure… I'm looking for something good. What would you recommend?" Bakura asked. His plan was not going well at all. How could he sneak a piece of meat away with this fool watching his every move. _

_            "Hmm… something good… Well, of course **all** our products are good" he let out a laugh. "But if I were to recommend something… oh, excuse me." Another customer had come up just as he was beginning to pull out a lamb leg. Bakura seized the chance immediately. _

_            He reached over the cart and snatched the leg from the man's hand, quickly dashing down the street._

_            "STOP! THIEF! BRING THAT BACK!" Shit. Not good. People were starting to look at him; some men were actually chasing him. Bakura darted back and forth, weaving through the crowds. Unfortunately, they saw him coming… _

_            Bakura felt himself being pushed down into the dirt of the city street. He growled and struggled as the man holding him down tore the piece of meat from his hand. _

_            "What do we have here? Do you know what happens to thieves in **this** city, boy?" he sneered menacingly, pushing more of his weight into Bakura's shoulders, causing Bakura to cry out in pain. "Well, let me tell you." the man growled, pulling out his knife from his pocket. "…We cut off their thumbs!"_

_            Bakura suddenly felt a rage well up inside his heart, his eyes flaring at the sound of the man's voice. It irritated him beyond belief. He wanted him **dead**._

_            Bakura screamed in anger and frustration, moving his head back to where the man's hand was on his shoulder. _

_            "YOU WANT THUMBS CUT OFF, YOU TWISTED BASTARD?! I'LL GIVE IT TO YOU THEN!" Bakura shrieked. He clamped his jaws down on the man's thumb and began to bite, twisting his head back and forth as blood began to run from the man's flesh. Bakura grinned as the man began to scream in agony, trying to pull his hand from Bakura's tight grip; this, however, merely forced Bakura to clamp down harder.    _

_            Blood streamed from the man's hand, running down Bakura's chin. People turned away in disgust, nobody wanting to get close enough to even help the man. Finally, the deed was done. _

_            Bakura spit the man's severed thumb from his mouth, licking the blood off his lips. It tasted sweet and bitter at the same time, a new taste, a new sensation. It felt good. _

**End notes**_: I know this is randomly and uncharacteristically short, especially for me. This is a first for me, ending my chapter with a flashback that is… I hope you can all forgive me. _

_            I have horrible writer's block at the moment, but this chapter NEEDED to be finished. I felt that I owed it to some people who felt a bit testy about the entire me taking the fic offline ordeal. _

_            I personally like this chapter a bit more than the others. It shows Bakura's introduction to true madness and his sadistic side is shown a bit more. (ie: licking off the Senen Eye after 'removing' it from Pegasus's eye-socket…) It also shows Yami's compassionate side. Awww. However, he still tries to contain his royal composure… hmm… perhaps a bit of spoiler for later chapters? ___


	5. Shot in the Heart With a Silver Bullet

Disclaimer: With school two days away, I want to leave you all with a super-uber-awesome chapter! I will update every now and again during the school year, but it won't be anywhere near as frequent as I have been… Muchos sorries. 

_            I want to thank everyone who has been so supportive of this story. Bakura and Yami thank you too. ^_^ I think that I'll end this story at around twenty chapters… maybe more though because I have some great ideas for later chapters. _

_            Now… what was I writing again? Ahaha… just kidding. And now, for everyone's enjoyment… I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh, for if I did, Anzu would not exist! _

Chapter 5: Shot in the Heart With a Silver Bullet 

            Yami shivered, the cold night air biting at his skin. He curled up a bit, pulling the lame excuse for a blanket around his shoulders. He wished that he had stayed home.

            Bakura had insisted that they stay in the ruins of KuruEruna even though Yami had protested and urged him at least spend the night in the near-by city. Bakura refused of course, being the stubborn fool that he was…

            Yami glanced over at Bakura, the dying firelight illuminating his face. Bakura slept sitting up, his arms folded across his chest. He didn't have a blanket. Yami stared at Bakura's shivering form, realizing for the first time that night that Bakura had given up his own blanket to him. 

            He looked down at the tattered cloth, wishing he had taken the time within all of his complaining to think… 

            Yami shifted closer to the fire, warming his hands and his face. If it was this cold for him, he could only imagine what Bakura was going through… He then realized what he was saying. What WAS he saying?! This man had kidnapped him; dragged him far away from home to see some ruins of what could have been any village! How ludicrous!

            Yami scoffed, his eyes rolling toward the sky. Why in Ra's name was he here? Why couldn't he have just let his father execute this madman? He felt incredibly stupid. 

            "I'm so sorry, father… I will try to get home as soon as I can…" he whispered.

            Bakura awoke to the sounds of light snoring. He glanced over at his captive. Yami was still asleep in a very unflattering position. Both arms were stretched over his head, while his legs were spread apart, the blanket only half covering his bare skin. Bakura snickered, trying not to laugh too loudly. 

            He stood and stretched his entire body, facing the rising sun. Morning was his favorite time of the day. Everyone assumed it would be midnight, when the stars were high in the sky and beginning to fade, but those who though that also called him demon. 

            Bakura began to rebuild the dead fire, using flint to light some extra pieces of wood. When he finally got the kindling to light, he leaned over and searched through his bag, taking out some bits of bread, water, and some meat he had stolen during his visit to Thebes. 

            Yami opened his eyes slowly, sniffing the air. He could smell meat cooking and it made his mouth water. He sat up quickly, prepared for his servants to come and serve him his breakfast. What he found was the thief cooking a bit of meat on a sad excuse for a fire. His face fell.

            "G'morning sleepy-face." Bakura sneered sarcastically. Yami gave him a forced smile, his face still showing distinct signs of disappointment. Bakura noticed immediately, and forced the food under Yami's nose. 

            "Here. Eat." he stated, leaning back against an ancient stonewall. Yami stared at the food, picking at it with his fingers. 

            "Aren't you going to eat anything, fool?" Yami asked rudely. "We need you at full health so you can take me home." Bakura snickered, then turned his face away from Yami, gazing at the sun.

            "That's all we've got, Highness." Yami's face fell. There would be no seconds today. He proceeded to scarf down the food, leaving only bits and crumbs on the copper plate. Bakura watched him eat, amused, than began to walk. 

            "H-hey! Where are you going?!" Yami cried, scrambling to get up. Bakura turned and smiled deviously, pointing towards the east. 

            "I'm going that way. Why?" he asked, grinning. Yami ran over and stood next to him, panting a bit.

            "I know **that**, you idiot! But **where** are you going?" Bakura turned and slapped Yami on the back, sending him practically flying into the ground.

            "Geez, Yam-boy! You need to work out more. You're weak as a puppy!" Bakura stopped poking fun at him when he got glares of loathing from Yami. "A-anyway, I'm heading to the city for more food. We're gonna need it."

            Yami stopped in his tracks. Need more food? For what?! He was going home after tonight, right? But before he could even open his mouth to say anything more, Bakura had already started off at a run. 

            "H-hey! Wait for me!" Yami cried, racing as fast as his legs could take him after Bakura. 

            _Little Bakura felt ashamed. His brown eyes were filled with tears of rage and sadness. He didn't know what to do._

_            He stared down at the little puppy in his hands. It was dead. Its little ears had flopped to one side, its body still and lifeless. Bakura began to sob. He didn't mean to do it. _

_            Bakura cuddled it close to his chest, hoping that if he kept holding it, it would come back. His breath caught in his throat, his sobs echoing throughout the barn that he was staying in. _

_            "I'm sorry… I can't save you…I want to save you…" he whispered, rocking back and forth on his knees. His heart felt as if it were made of stone, heavy in his chest. _

_            Bakura placed the little animal on the ground, staring at it through tear-filled eyes. His cheeks stung with the salt of his tears, his body shaking. He had only been playing with it… He didn't know that it was so fragile; so easy to kill. _

_            …Had it been this easy to kill mother? Did killing the puppy make him the same as the men who had burned his village? His eyes narrowed, his face beginning to fill with hatred. Was he the same? _

_            Bakura stood up, gazing down at the broken form of the puppy. He hated it. He hated himself. He hated everything!_

_            Letting out a scream of pent up rage, he kicked the lifeless body out of his way, watching it hit against a wall and then flop back down to the ground. It remained dead. _

_            "Why?! Why won't you come back, you stupid animal?!" he yelled at it, his hands balled up into fists. "I hate you! I hate you so fucking much!"_

_            Bakura dropped to his knees, holding his head. He didn't want to remember anymore. Why couldn't he just forget everything that had happened?_

_            "Why do I exist?!" he sobbed, he head filled with thoughts of death; of hate and malice. He couldn't comprehend anymore. Everything around him made no sense to him anymore. _

_            Bakura crawled over to the puppy, scooping it up with his small hands. He held it close again; it was still warm. Warm… like… _

_            "I want to save you… Why can't I save you?…" _

Bakura entered the city, Yami trailing close behind him. He glanced back at the Pharaoh, smiling a bit. It had been long since Bakura had had any companionship. Bakura walked back to Yami and handed him his cloak. Yami looked at it, then up at him quizzically.

            "Put it on. I don't want anyone recognizing you." Bakura whispered, watching the people around them carefully.

            "But… Thebes is far from here. Do you really think…" Bakura placed his hand over Yami's mouth and pulled him close, glaring into his eyes.

            "I don't want to take any risks. Now, put it on dammit!" Yami shrunk back a bit and pulled the cloak over him, covering his face. Bakura nodded approvingly.

            "It looks good on you, Pharaoh." Yami gave him a disapproving frown. Bakura just grinned, then motioned for him to follow. 

            People moved out of the way as Bakura passed them, making a small walk-way through the crowds. Mothers showed their daughters into their houses quickly; fathers gritted their teeth and glared; merchants moved closer to their stands. Bakura grinned back at Yami, glad that he could witness his power. 

            Yami watched the people stare at them. Why were they doing that anyway? He huddled closer to Bakura, not wanting to be lost in this strange city. 

            "H-hey, Bakura. Why are they all staring at us like that?" Bakura turned to Yami, surprised that he had actually used his name. He smiled.

            "They're afraid of the white-haired demon." Yami gave him a reproachful look. What a load of crap. 

            Yami then realized that this was his chance. He could get away here. He could get lost… Bakura wouldn't be able to find him! Yami began to fall behind, looking around for an escape route. He found it in a small alleyway that was quickly approaching. 

            Watching Bakura carefully, Yami began to sneak closer towards the right side. Bakura did not turn around. Yami grinned, then quickly rushed down the alley, running at top-speed. He looked behind him. Bakura was not there. He had done it! Now… now he could hire someone to take him back to Thebes and… 

            "Going somewhere, Pharaoh?" Yami ran straight into Bakura's arms. Bakura caught him and held him tightly. Yami struggled, yelling at Bakura to let him go. 

            "You stupid thief! Let me go! I WANT TO GO HOME!" he screamed. Bakura held on tightly, his eyes flaring. 

            "Shut-up, brat!" he yelled, his hand flying across Yami's cheek for the second time. Yami staggered and fell to the ground, stuttering. Bakura grabbed him by his cloak, pulling him back up to his own eye-level. 

            "You wicked little brat! You told me… You told me you wanted to know the truth! Here I am, trying to show you what your dear-old daddy has done, giving you food and the clothes off of my back, and you're trying to make a fool of me?!" Bakura spat maliciously. "How dare you?! You're not a captive! You're being treated as a prince, as I have never treated anyone before you!" Bakura tossed him back to the ground, his breathing heavy.

            "Well fine then, little Pharaoh… Yami. You can go. Go back to your life of luxury. Be my guest. You'll never know… my pain…" Bakura gazed down at him for a few seconds, longing to pull him into an embrace; to make amends for his cruel words. His facial features softened, his heart aching… How he had wanted to have Yami understand…

            Bakura turned away and walked back into the swarm of people, his white hair disappearing from Yami's view. 

End Notes: Waiiii! What did you all think? I personally think this is the best chapter I have written for this story! I am really beginning to love the characters… Anyway, read, enjoy, review, all that jazz. Be prepared… the next chapter is a doozy! 


	6. The Absense of Fear

Disclaimer: Oi oi. It's time for the next update. ^_^ Yay for the happy fanfic! Anyway, this is chapter six and I am very happy with the response I've gotten from you all. The reviews have been much appreciated and the suggestions have been taken to heart. 

_            So I'm finally going to update this. Again, I want to actually make this story GO somewhere. Heh, I don't want it to just be really pretty. So… let's see how well I can do this. Chapter six will, hopefully…, hold some revelations for both Yami and Bakura… and maybe the author will put in a little eye-candy for ya'll, if you know what I mean. _

Chapter 6: The Absence of Fear 

Bakura swept through the city in a mixture of anger and sorrow. He hadn't meant to actually strike Yami… merely to warn him about his quickly rising temper. He brushed his hair out of his eyes in frustration. How was he supposed to deal with a royal brat like that anyway? 

            Bakura stopped at a cart and surveyed the items. Nothing of use. He sighed, plopping down next to the cart. Yami…that fool. He'd never make it back to Thebes on his own. 

            "Well, good riddance!" mumbled Bakura, spitting on the ground next to him. "I didn't need that idiot to understand me anyway. Who the hell does he think he is anyway… spoiled brat…" He put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. He didn't need Yami… not at all…

            Meanwhile, the young Pharaoh was having issues of his own. This city was unfamiliar to him; the people looked threatening. To put it simply, Yami was terrified to be on his own, but too proud to look for Bakura. The thief was of no use to him. He could always hire someone after all…

            Yami hurried towards a promising looking fellow. The man was nicely dressed… he had to be of some importance in this flea-ridden city. 

            "E-excuse me! Sir! Please, wait!" Yami called, running after the man. The large man turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

            "Kid, I ain't got no time for talking to ya. I've got business to attend to, so if ya ain't got any money or nothin', I ain't interested." The man turned to continue on his intended path, but Yami latched himself onto his leg.

            "Please! I need you to take me to Thebes! I promise you, you will be heavily rewarded once we get there!" Yami babbled pleadingly. "You see, sir, I am the Pharaoh! I have been kidnapped and dragged against my will to this Gods-forsaken land! I just want to go home!"

            The man turned back to him, instantly interested.

            "The Pharaoh of Egypt, eh?… This is getting interesting, kid. What'll ya pay me?" the man inquired, stroking his chin. Yami let out a small sigh of relief.

            "Whatever you want… Just please, take me back to Thebes." 

            Bakura stood up reproachfully, his body heavy with the weight of the earlier events. He hated to be the one to crawl back… No. He just wanted what was coming to him, of course. He would have to find the brat and bring him back to Thebes. 

            Bakura let out a soft sigh. This was a nuisance. Why did he have to be the one to find Yami? Why hadn't Yami come to find him yet? Oh well, time for a bit of fun.

            Bakura began to walk down the street. Things seemed quiet; normal and plain as usual. After a few blocks, things became a bit strange.

            People were crowded about a small building; others quickly rushing to see what the commotion was. Bakura glanced around. Might as well check it out, he thought to himself.

            As he approached, Bakura caught a glimpse of red hair at the center of the crowd. His stomach began to tense up. It couldn't be Yami… His pace quickened further. He heard laughter; ridicule. His pace quickened to a run. 

            Pushing people out of his way, Bakura fought his way to the center of the circle of people. After a few seconds of pushing, he finally saw, to his disgust, what they were all laughing about.

            In the center of the group sat Yami. He had been gagged and bound to a small wooden chair. A crown of dung had been placed in his hair; a mock crown. Tears streamed down his face, his nose bloody from numerous hits across the face. Flies roamed around him, his shoulders heaving gently as he sobbed against the gag. 

            Bakura felt rage take hold of him, allowing himself to let out a fierce growl. Yami looked up from his throne at the white-haired man in front of him. For the first time, Yami had been thankful to see the thief, his eyes watering at Bakura's muscular form glinting in the sunlight. The man Yami had met stepped forward.

            "Behold, demon! Worship your 'Pharaoh'!" he laughed mockingly, prodding at Yami with a small rod. Yami flinched each time the man struck him, whimpering piteously behind the tight gag. 

            "…You son-of-a-bitch…" Bakura whispered, glaring murderously at the man before him. Without warning, Bakura struck, his fist colliding with the man's jaw, sending the man flying backwards. 

            Yami watched in dismay, struggling against the ropes. The crowd had begun to dissipate, not wanting to be caught in the upcoming fight.

            _Yami sat by the large window in his room, watching the rain fall, spattering the ground of the city of Thebes. The young boy sighed, placing his chin on his arms. It had been three days since his father, Pharaoh of Egypt, had left to make plans for the brewing war. _

_            His eyes wandered through the streets, watching the citizens scattering for cover. How long had it been since the last rain storm…? Quite awhile. _

_            Yami leaned back, lying on the numerous pillows thrown about his room. He watched the darkened clouds move lazily across the blackened sky, wondering to himself when a break of sunshine would come. Suddenly, the doors to his room opened and one of their many servants wandered in._

_            "Young Master, your father has arrived home." He spoke in a quiet voice. Yami sprang up from the pillows, excitedly running through the door past the surprised servant. _

_            The smile on Yami's face grew as he approached the gates to the palace. His father had finally returned! Yami flew out of the gates and caught sight of his father._

_            "Father, you're finally back! The Gods be praised!" Yami shouted, waving his arms. His father, however, moved right past him, pushing Yami's spread arms out of his way._

_            "I've got no time for you, boy. War is brewing! Don't you know that, you stupid child?!" yelled his father. Yami watched him go in sorrow, his eyes watering at the harsh words of his father. There would be no joy in the palace, even with his father's return._

_            Yami gazed at his father as the numerous servants crowded around him, bending to Akunumkanon's every word. How sickening, he thought. He gave a small sigh and walked off into the rain._

_            Yami moved his chin upward, letting the rain wash his tears from his cheeks. But still they flowed, mixing their horrid salt with the purity of the rain-water. Opening his amethyst eyes, he stared up at the gloomy rain clouds. So this was what it came down to. A young boy of his caliber standing in the rain, soaked to the bone. _

_            He let out a small laugh but it sounded more like a whimper of a child. But he was no child. Yami narrowed his eyes in fierce determination. He was the next Pharaoh… he better damned well start to show it! _

_            Sticking his nose up in the air as he had seen his father do numerous times, Yami proudly stalked back towards the palace. Who cared if his father didn't love him anymore? That was not what family was for. At least… that's what he'd been taught. Yami smirked to himself, knowing that he would survive; that he would live on as Pharaoh of Egypt. _

_            After all, his father was a good man but… time was most surely against him. _

_            Yami mentally smacked himself for thinking such a thing. How could he wish death on his own father? His father was a man of his word; a man with respect for himself and for his country. Of course his father loved him! The country, Yami realized, must always come first in the life of the Pharaoh._

_            And that, he decided, was how it would always be. _

            The man quickly crawled away, whimpering like a beaten dog. Bakura had broken his jaw. Yami could tell because of the way it was just hanging there… bloodied and barely hanging on to the rest of the man's face. 

            Bakura bent down and began to untie the ropes, his face hard and void of emotion. Yami stammered underneath his breath, searching inside himself for some word of thanks. Bakura, sensing the young boy's discomfort, assured him. 

            "No thanks is necessary, Pharaoh. Just try and keep close to me next time." Bakura mumbled softly, a slight edge to his voice; an edge that said to Yami 'I told you so'.

            Yami smiled as best he could, his lips sore from the brutality that had occurred. Bakura finished quickly and tossed the ropes aside. Quickly, he extended his arm to the beaten Pharaoh.

            "Please, allow me to help this time." Bakura motioned for Yami to take his arm. Yami stared at Bakura, as if for the first time realizing that Bakura really **was** trying to protect him. 

            "…Thank you so much… Bakura." Yami reached out his shaking hand and placed it gently on Bakura's arm.

I am VERY sorry that it took so long to put this chapter up. I meant to finish it last Friday, but found myself buried in homework. Ah, school how I loathe thee.

_            Anyway, please forgive the lateness. Anyone notice that the flashback this time was Yami's? ^_^ Hooray! Yami doesn't feel so left out anymore!_

_            I plan to bring Seto and his father into this later, but for now they'll only be showing up in flashbacks. Sorry all you Seto fans. Keep reading, keep reviewing, and I'll keep writing! Oh yeah… I didn't mention that yet!_

_            I am working on some ideas for a Malik/Yami Malik fanfic. Any ideas would be appreciated… they could definitely help me with some brain-storming! Keep waiting for some new chapters! I will be updating verrrrrrry soon! _


	7. Lucky Seven

Disclaimer: Hello, and welcome to Chapter 7, or as I like to call it, Lucky Seven. Considering I only got two reviews for the last chapter, I've decided to make this one kick major bootay. 

_            Well, it is September 11th again… Goodie. I didn't go to school today. Feel like you know what… But enough about my issues. Let's get on to the story shall we?_

_            GOMEN NASAI!!!! It's now September 21st and I feel really bad for making you wait all this time… I just haven't had the time or the luxury to work on this story as of late… let's see if I can get it done tonight, eh? _

Chapter 7: Lucky Seven 

Yami let out a small gasp as Bakura poured the bucket of cold water over his head. He felt his hair slick down his face and down his shoulders, closing his eyes as the water streamed down his tear-streaked cheeks.

            Bakura had found a large bin, normally used for horse-feed, and stuck Yami inside of it. After a few minutes of Yami sitting there, smelling uncannily like a horse, Bakura returned with three large buckets of water. 

            "Now… you don't have to strip if you don't want to, but…" Bakura stated, blushing slightly. Yami smiled a bit. For now, Bakura was his lifeline… his protector… his guard. 

            Slipping off the foul-smelling clothing, Yami sat patiently, waiting for the next step in this new process. Bakura slowly poured the water over Yami, watching the rivulets run down his pale skin.          

            "Bakura… why did you come back for me? I was… such a brat and…" Yami stammered, unsure of how to proceed with the conversation. It was hard enough having let down his guard long enough for those ruffians to convince him to go with them… but now… now Yami was feeling the full weight of the awful things he had said to Bakura. 

            Bakura smirked, listening eagerly as the boy admitted his guilt to him. However, his smile faded as he watched Yami's shoulder begin to shake and tremble.

            Tears ran slowly down Yami's face, his amethyst eyes watering slightly. His lower lip trembled; his entire body shook from the cold bite of the water. 

            "…I just wanted to go home… I was wrong, Bakura… I can never go home can I?" Yami choked, his breath catching in his throat. Bakura stared down at the boy, the sense of longing to hold him moving through his head. 

            "I'll take you home, Pharaoh." Bakura stated quietly. He knew that he couldn't ask Yami to stay with him any longer. It was time for him to go home… It was time to return him to a place he was more familiar with. Yami looked up at him in surprise, the morning's glowing light illuminating his face. 

            Bakura reached out and gently wiped away his tears, watching the light play softly across the boy's features. He could almost see his dirty face reflecting in the young man's eyes, as he pulled his hand away slowly. 

            Turning away, Bakura let out a soft sigh. How he longed to face Yami, to feel his eyes on him again… but he couldn't. Not anymore. This was not who he was. This was not what he had set out to do. He had to remember his revenge. But how could he do that now…?

            "I'll find you some clothes. Wait here." Bakura croaked, walking quickly down the street. Bakura's voice caught in his throat as he practically ran through the city, his mind wandering. How he wished Yami could always shine that light on him…

            Yami was to Bakura the morning light, shining… glowing… Since they had first come to this city… no. Even before that… When Yami had given Bakura that drink… Merciful he was. 

            Bakura stopped, his eyes tensing. He wanted to cry; to sit down in the middle of the street and sob. But he hadn't done that for years and he wasn't planning to start now. 

            Slowly, he reached into his robes and pulled out his copper knife. He stared down at its glinting blade, hating it, hating himself. How could he be so selfish?

            Holding the knife to his chest, he closed his eyes, wanting this entire ordeal to end. And end it would. Right now. Everything just needed to end. His eyes fluttered open.

            __

_            "Must you be such a brat?!" Seto yelled, smacking Yami across the face. Yami yelped and fell to his knees from the slap. Seto glared down at him coldly._

_            "Did you know that if you weren't here, my father would succeed the throne?" Seto rasped, his cold eyes focused on his young cousin. "And did you know that if you weren't here, after my father was dead I would be the next Pharaoh?" _

_            Yami stared up at Seto, his eyes watering. He was unsure of what to say or do; maybe he should just keep his mouth shut. Seto gave a small laugh of pleasure, adjusting his wrist adornments. _

_            "You're too damned weak to be Pharaoh. Grow up, brat!" Seto whispered venomously. Yami watched as Seto turned and walked out of the room. Still staring at Seto's retreating back, Yami cursed under his breath, wishing that his cousin would just die. _

Yami stared down at the water, wondering where Bakura had gone. He obviously could not get up and look for him… he had no clothes after all.  Leaning back in the bin, Yami closed his eyes and began to fall into a restless sleep. 

            _"I give up, father. I can't do this anymore." Yami sighed gently, pushing away his scrolls. Akunumkanon looked down at his son, then lightly whacked him on the top of his head. _

_            "You have to. You can and you will." Akunumkanon stated. Yami gazed up at his father. He should be proud to be the next in line, and yet… Yami felt empty. All he did was study anymore. _

_            Letting out another sigh, Yami pulled the scrolls back towards him, running his eyes over the writing. It was all so boring. Why couldn't these scholars write about something interesting? War… famine… loss… it was always the same. _

_            The light outside began to fade, dark descending on the city. Yami continued to read until his was the only candle lit in the entire palace. _

Bakura had decided. His steps were quick and purposeful. He was ready. He had to be ready. Even if he wasn't, it was the only thing he could do. 

            His eyes were filled with determination, the copper knife still gripped in his hand. His knuckles had begun to turn white; his entire body shaking. But he needed to. It was time to take his revenge. 

            Bakura turned onto the street, looking forward to where Yami lay in the bin. He stared at the young boy's closed eyes, knowing that it had to be now. 

            Bakura quietly advanced, his hair blowing out behind his shoulders. Upon reaching Yami, Bakura kneeled, the copper knife raised above his head. His eyes stared unwaveringly at the Pharaoh. He arm shook with anticipation. Could he do it…? He had to. He just had to. 

_Ahahahahaha! It's another cliff-hanger! Don't you just hate those? Well… hopefully this will make up for all the time I lost by NOT updating… I'm still really sorry for that… Please review! Expect next chapter soon…(I hope…) _


	8. Untouchable

Disclaimer: Hey all. This is the… what is it now… eighth chapter? Wow, we've come a long way from being in the city of Thebes to Bakura pulling a knife on our young prince, ne? So anyway, I'll get on with the story… I'm doing my best to keep updating as regularly as possible… School is a bitch and kind of hinders me a bit. 

_            Just a random little tale before we start… I know a lot of you don't care about other peoples love lives, but I recently, today actually, talked to this chick Michelle who had gone out with my ex of seven months. So we swapped stories and it turns out… dun dun dun! He's a man-whore! So we're planning to chop off his nuts. ^_^ Anyone care to see pictures? Note, you'll need a microscope to see them… _

_            Enough about that. On with the story!_

Chapter Eight: Untouchable 

****

            Bakura wavered, his arm beginning to shake. The more he stared, the harder it became, the more gruesome… The task he had planned to do the first time he met Yami seemed beyond him now. But he had to. 

            His mouth became dry. Why was he reacting to this stupid brat like this? Why couldn't he just kill him? 

            Yami stirred a bit, scrunching up into a little ball in the cold water, shivering gently. Bakura took a large breath, subconsciously hoping the boy would wake up… would stop him… But he continued to sleep soundly. 

            "…why…" Bakura whispered. "…why can't I kill you…?" Sweat ran down the sides of his face. Finally, he felt wetness he had not felt for years.

            Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, eagerly clumping together, melding with his sweat and running down his face. Bakura let out a sharp gasp as he dropped the knife. It collided with his foot, stabbing right through his tanned skin and pinning him to the ground. He made no sound as pain seared up his leg. He couldn't. He couldn't even move to take it out. He was stuck in this moment….

            At the loud thunk of the knife, Yami stirred again, his eyes fluttering open. He stared up at Bakura, watching the empty tears run down his face. 

            "B-Bakura… what…" Yami started. He finally noticed Bakura's foot which was now stained with blood, the ground around it a brilliant red. Yami quickly got up, tearing the knife from his foot. Bakura cringed, making a choking sound, the tears flowing feely now. 

            "Bakura! How…?! We need to bandage it!" Yami cried, grabbing his dirty clothing from the ground beside the bin. Tearing at it with his teeth, he began to wrap Bakura's foot, his eyes still wide with horror. 

            "…wh…" Bakura whispered. Yami stopped, looking back up at him. "What is it, Bakura…?" Yami said breathlessly.

            "…Why are you helping me, brat?" Bakura snarled, kicking him away. He had to… Yami yelped in pain as his side hit the bin hard. Bakura picked up the blood-stained knife. 

            "This blade… is meant for you…" Bakura whispered menacingly, his eyes showing no emotion except for the salty tears that still flowed from them. Yami cringed as he tried to move away, his face filled with fear.

            Bakura advanced slowly, his face hardened. 

            "Please…Bakura… why are you doing this?…" Yami sobbed, his eyes watering from fear and pain. Bakura said nothing. 

            _"Don't look up, boy."_

_            Yami said nothing._

_            "Don't you look up, boy."_

_            Yami looked down at his own feet, watching them walk on their own toward the ritual site._

_            "Just remember, boy… They may be crowning you Pharaoh, but the place still belongs to me. Don't you look up!"_

_            Why was he here? Father was supposed to be dead. It wasn't supposed to happen now. He wasn't ready. He looked up to see the priests waiting for him. Akunumkanon slapped him in the side of the face._

_            "I told you! Don't you look up, you fool!" _

_            Yami approached the priests slowly, his eyes lowered again. Why wasn't he allowed to look up? After all… wasn't he Pharaoh? _

Bakura stopped abruptly, slashing Yami across the arm. Yami cried out in pain. Blood poured from the fresh wound, running slowly down toward his hand. 

            "…Get out of here." Bakura said softly. The malice was gone. The tears were wiped away. Bakura was completely devoid of emotion. Yami glanced up at his eyes. They were empty too. 

            "Bakura…" Yami started, edging his way closer. Bakura stepped back quickly like a wounded animal. He lowered the knife, tossing it away.

            "…I can't kill you. I don't know why… I can't kill you. Leave. Go home, Pharaoh." Bakura whispered, turning his back on Yami. Suddenly, Yami wrapped his arms around his legs, holding him tightly despite the pain in his arm. 

            "Don't leave me here! You can't! I don't know _how _to get home!…" Yami sobbed. "And… You still haven't taught me! You haven't shown me what father did!!" Yami cried wholeheartedly, his voice catching in his throat. 

            Bakura shook him off easily. Yami fell to his hands and kneed in the dust, his face bent down low, tears falling into a small pool. 

            "Bakura… I don't want to go home yet! Please… we're friends aren't we?!" Yami said gently through clenched teeth. Bakura turned and smashed his hand into Yami's open wound, causing him to scream in pain. 

            "WE ARE NOT FRIENDS! WE NEVER WERE, YOU STUPID FOOL! I'M SICK OF BABY-SITTING YOU! GO THE HELL HOME, BRAT!" Bakura screamed at the top of his lungs. 

            "…I hate you… Bakura…" Yami whispered. Bakura turned back, sneering at him. Finally, his lips formed a twisted smile. 

            "Don't need your approval, Pharaoh. I do what the hell I need to get by. Get over it." Bakura laughed. Yami watched him, his heart growing heavy with bitterness. His eyes narrowed as tears flushed his cheeks, his breathing growing heavier. Lies. They were all lies Bakura had told him… 

            _"So, Pharaoh. What shall I call you? I'm sure you don't appreciate being called 'Pharaoh' **all** the time." Bakura inquired teasingly. Yami turned and hushed him, pushing him up against a wall. Two guards passed, both looking rather uninterested in the events of the palace. Yami turned to him, a small smirk on his face._

_            "My proper name is Yami. You may use that if you wish." Bakura smiled. _

_            "Yami, eh? Then that is what you shall be called. Or maybe…" Bakura lifted Yami's chin up, staring down into his eyes. "…Or maybe I'll just call you slave." Yami cringed, his eyes narrowing in anger. Yami raised his hand, preparing to slap him, but Bakura grabbed it, pressing it back against the wall._

_            "Don't even try it. Slap me once, that's alright. Slap me twice, however… then I kill you." he growled, not even a trace of humor in his voice. Yami finally stopped struggling. Bakura released him and pushed him forward a bit. _

            "Now… keep leading." Yami nodded, quickly moving about the palace. 

Yami continued to stare at him, trying to figure out why Bakura had used him. Was it just the hatred toward his father? Bakura continued to laugh, slapping his knees, pain still making him cringe. His foot bled worse than before and his skin had begun to pale at the loss of blood. 

            It hurt. It hurt so bad to look at Yami staring at him with such hatred. He hated himself for doing this, but he could not continue. The way things were… Dammit, it had only been barely a day and he felt so close to the boy… 

            _"You stupid thief! Let me go! I WANT TO GO HOME!" he screamed. Bakura held on tightly, his eyes flaring. _

_            "Shut-up, brat!" he yelled, his hand flying across Yami's cheek for the second time. Yami staggered and fell to the ground, stuttering. Bakura grabbed him by his cloak, pulling him back up to his own eye-level. _

_            "You wicked little brat! You told me… You told me you wanted to know the truth! Here I am, trying to show you what your dear-old daddy has done, giving you food and the clothes off of my back, and you're trying to make a fool of me?!" Bakura spat maliciously. "How dare you?! You're not a captive! You're being treated as a prince, as I have never treated anyone before you!" Bakura tossed him back to the ground, his breathing heavy._

_            "Well fine then, little Pharaoh… Yami. You can go. Go back to your life of luxury. Be my guest. You'll never know… my pain…" Bakura gazed down at him for a few seconds, longing to pull him into an embrace; to make amends for his cruel words. His facial features softened, his heart aching… How he had wanted to have Yami understand…_

_            Bakura turned away and walked back into the swarm of people, his white hair disappearing from Yami's view._

            "Goodbye, Pharaoh! Go back to your golden cage! Nobody wants you here!" Bakura yelled, his face still grinning at Yami. Yami felt like tearing his eyes out. How did this happen…?

            "You stupid, thief! I hate you!! I HATE YOU, DO YOU HEAR?! I hope that you burn!" Yami cried, clambering to his feet, his eyes narrowed. "The next time we meet, I will have your head, Bakura!!" For a second, Yami could have sworn that Bakura's eyes had softened… for only a second…

            "Well then, Pharaoh… Just remember. I'm untouchable. Even to you." Bakura smiled. "Then we're enemies. Just how it was meant to be." With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Yami to his own devices. 

            "Yes… definitely… Untouchable? Ha." Yami gloated.

_Oi oi. This story WILL continue… perhaps three years later? Hmm? I don't want to end it like this… It's too sad. Hehehe. So, any requests? Ideas? Anything? Feel free to tell me where YOU think the story should go from here. I always love to take opinions… It really helps me write this kind of stuff. Like the OTHER flashbacks from earlier chapters? I couldn't help it. I'm a total egotist._


	9. A little note

Authors Note: The story is once more being updated! Feel free to read and, hopefully, enjoy! Much love: KChan


	10. I Don't Give a Damn

_Disclaimer:_ Forgive me. Please please please PLEASE forgive me. I understand that I haven't updated in… well, ages, but I'm gonna do my best to have more of the story up and running for you all. I'm in college now and am in an English Lit. class, therefore, I'll be writing a lot… thus, story. I know it's kind of weird and kind of a new idea, but keep in mind this is a kind of sequel if you will. I hope everyone is still reading this…

How long has it been since that time? How many endless days and sleepless nights have passed since I last laid eyes on your flawless face?

The young Pharaoh breathed deeply, inhaling the cool night air into his burning lungs. His eyes rested wearily on the immeasurable amount of royal documents before him, wondering where exactly they wanted him to start. Resting his face on his free hand, his eyes began to blur, sleep finally catching up with his tired soul. His lean body slumped forward, no longer able to stay erect.

A young priest marched through the palace, his steps lively and urgent, echoing throughout the vast halls. A look of determination on his face, he surveyed the scenery around him. Sleeping guards… he glared at them, disgusted by their lack of enthusiasm.

"Filthy sons of the Devouress! Have you no common sense? We're in a god damned war here! Would you so easily let an enemy spy into the palace to kill the Golden One? Open your eyes and do your damned jobs, fools!" he hissed, turning heads from wandering members of the court. The guards immediately snapped to their feet, sheepishly gazing at the floor.

Rolling his eyes skyward, the man continued on, his steps now quicker. Thanks to those idiots, he was now even later than he originally was. As he approached the main hall, his palms began to sweat slightly. It was he who would have to give Pharaoh the news that the troops sent to invade Syria had been annihilated.

Yami glanced up as he walked into the room. Immediately, Pharaoh's eyes lit up and a small boyish grin passed his face. Quickly raising himself into a standing position, Yami walked towards the priest, his arms outstretched in welcome.

"Seto! You bring me news of the invasion progress, yes?" he asked, his eyes sparkling in anticipation. Seto laughed nervously, dropping to his knees, bowing before his King. Yami looked down, a small grin again passing his face.

"Seto, you need not bow to me, dear cousin." Seto glanced up nervously, wiping his palms on his shift nervously.

"Golden One… the invasion has failed. The troops… they have all been destroyed." Seto whispered, his voice faltering. Yami's eyes widened, a look of horror replacing his grin. Seto looked up at him, his eyes sympathetic.

"…Syria sent a messenger. Yami… cousin… we are at war."

'God damned war…' A white haired thief moved silently through the streets of Thebes. He hadn't eaten for several days and his thirst was driving him mad.

Snatching a shriveled fruit from a nearby stand, he bit down, longing for the fresh stolen goods he had so carelessly taken for granted.

Why had he even bothered coming back to this cursed city? It was pointless to assume that bastard brat wanted anything to do with him anymore… Why bother trying to understand what his holiness was thinking?

Bakura wiped sweat from his forehead, glaring up at the relentless Egyptian sun. Fuck Thebes. Fuck that brat, Yami. He didn't care what anyone thought of him until that stupid child showed up, and now he was a royal mess. Not to mention the war that Yami had started with Syria. Why would he do something so fucking stupid?

And as if to taunt him, he was alarmed by the sound of royal trumpets sounding around the corner.

_The sound of little feet running echoed through the royal palace. Two children ran through the halls, giggling as they engaged in a game of tag. The taller, brown haired child tripped and practically fell, but regained balance and jumped away just as the other child caught up to him._

_"Seto! You can't get away from me! I'll catch you this time!", the younger boy called, his eyes glittering with amusement. Seto turned back to the young son of the Living God, a grin spread across his broad face. _

_"I'd like to see you try, Yami! You've been 'it' for almost an hour now!" he yelled back laughingly. Yami stopped in his tracks and put on a pout, crossing his arms and glaring at his older cousin. Seto slowly stopped, the grin fading. _

_"You always win these games, Seto… Shouldn't the son of a God have a bit more luck?" tears welled up in Yami's eyes, a sniffle escaping his tiny body. Seto sighed softly and walked back to the boy's side. _

_"Yami… It is only because I am older and have longer legs… Don't worry, you shall best me someday…" _

_"TAG, YOU'RE IT!" Yami cried, quickly tapping Seto's shoulder and running off. Seto stopped in mid-sentence, a look of shock and annoyance passing his face. Yami had already barreled off in the other direction, laughing as he looked back at Seto and stuck his tongue out. _

_"You brat!! That wasn't fair!" Seto yelled, chasing after him._

Yami sat on his throne, silently looking at the men surrounding him. His eyes drifted lazily around the room, focusing on each person in the room for a few seconds.

Kiva, general of the south end troops, sat to his left. Kiva was a large man, his face scarred with the harshness of wars of the past. A large scar ran from his left eye down to his chin on the right side.

Seto, his cousin and High Priest, sat to his right. His cold, blue eyes glared down at the floor, his body rigged with anger. The war was affecting everyone, but Seto had been taking the heat for Yami. It was a very stressful job and he was clearly not sleeping well.

Mahado, his mentor and friend, sat next to Seto, quietly discussing war tactics with Akuzemaru, general of the north end troops.

Yami sighed and clasped his hands together.

"We need to either win this war, or find some way to peacefully withdraw. I understand, it was a stupid idea to try to invade at such a crucial time in the harvest period, but we must find a way around this. We are loosing more and more troops as we speak!" he paused to look around at the men's faces. None seemed too thrilled about the idea of withdrawing.

"I must stress that we cannot send more men. They are needed to continue the harvest. We must find a way to…"

"Pharaoh, if I may interrupt…" Kiva began. Yami's eyes flashed dangerously in his direction and belligerently jumped to his feet, slamming his hands on the table.

"Kiva! You may NEVER interrupt me! I did not give you permission to speak! If I want your opinion I will ASK you for it. DO NOT FORGET YOUR PLACE." Yami growled. Kiva immediately shut his mouth, his eyes quickly moving to the ground. Yami let out a short, exasperated breath, slowly lowering his lean body back into sitting position.

"Now… either we do something about this, or we all suffer…"

Blood… so much… blood… It almost seems… that it flows from the sky…

The ground was littered with Egyptian and Syrian corpses, the remains of a tremendous battle. The sky had darkened to a dull, slate grey and gentle drops of rain began to fall from the threatening clouds.

The smell… the smell of rotting flesh and dried blood hung in the air, the forgiving wind refusing to take it away. And then…

A spear… a knife in the dark… A desperate cry… Long, beautiful white hair floating… and then… Another body sprawled among the rest… Wide… dead… eyes…

Bakura gritted his teeth in silent anger, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. The banners of the Pharaoh bounced high above the city streets and crowds had already begun to gather at the sides of the road.

And there he was. Proud, defiant little bitch… sitting atop his pillar surrounded by his guards. Bakura spit into the dirt, his eyes focused on Yami's tired face. Just as Yami was about to pass by Bakura's position, a young man stepped forward, his fists clenched in fury.

"Your stupid invasion plans killed my father! You bastard! Why did you have to replace your father, you ignorant brat?!" he cried, his eyes welling with tears. "You… you killed him! Just like you did to our country!"

Guards quickly stepped in, and before Yami could say anything, they had already slit the young man's throat. Bakura's eyes widened as he watched the body fall, blood spilling from the wound and splattering his feet. Yami rose in anger, his face torn between anger and disgust.

"I did not order that killing!!" he bellowed. The guards immediately dropped to their knees, bending their heads low to the ground.

"Forgive us, Golden One… He was speaking blasphemy…"

Yami's narrowed eyes drifted through the crowd, surveying the mood. His eyes came to rest on one person, one very familiar person. His eyes widened in disbelief.

There he was: Simple, flawless. In these many months, he hadn't changed. Every line, every curve, every simple beautiful detail was exactly as it had been in his dreams. The world faded… the corpse, the commoners, the guards… They were all background for this one person.

Bakura had taken center stage in Yami's mind. And he stared right back, his eyes narrowing slightly in defiance. He knew. Bakura knew that Yami desperately wanted him… wanted everything about him… wanted to BE him… And he didn't care.

Bakura watched Pharaoh, eagerly wanting to know what he would do. But he didn't move. He didn't even blink. He just stood and stared. Bakura's heart skipped a beat as Yami's eyes met his, the young Pharaoh's face melting, blurring… All he could focus on was those eyes; those innocent, beautifully crafted eyes. And he knew. He knew that Yami wanted him. But that was too easy.

Bakura smirked, waving a little. Yami's eyes widened, his heart racing with fear and excitement. As Yami slowly stepped up to walk forward, his guards stopped him. Yami glared and slapped the guard in front of him.

"Don't you DARE get in my way, bastard! I order you to let me by!!!" he screeched, struggling to walk through the guard's arm. But it was no use. By the time he had gotten through, Bakura was gone, out of sight, but not out of mind…

_"Come to me in my dreams… come to me; be with me…" _

_"You know I can't."_

_"…But why?"_

_"Because… we are too different. You know this. You understand this."_

_"But I don't care… These feelings… they burn inside me, destroying my insides… I want to explode."_

_"What do you hope for? What do you really want from me?"_

_"I want you… I want you to love me the way I love you…"_

_"Is that all?"_

_"Yes… please… now will you come to me? Darling, I love you…"_

_"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."_

Authors Notes: Eh? Eh? Was it at least okay? And yes, I realize that last line is stolen from "Gone With the Wind". I can just hear Bakura saying that. Try to keep an open mind, it will get more interesting.


	11. Defiance

_Disclaimer: _Firstly, Happy Halloween fanfic-ers. Yes, I have dubbed us fanfic-ers. Don't complain. Well, I really want to continue with this story based on the fact that so many people really appreciate the work I've done with this thing… I feel bad for leaving you hanging for so long, so here's another chapter! Ooh, two in one day! Crazy man!

_"Forgive a foolish heart… my eyes still hold your image within their sight, gone, but not forgotten… When I stare into those radiant, piercing eyes… I'm sent to eternity over and over…"_

Yami sank to the floor, his eyes closed, his body stiff and sore. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he buried his face into his hands, a slight sob echoing throughout his bedroom. These nightmarish dreams were coming to him even during the day now; these premonitions of horrible slaughter… of his beloved dead, cold, empty…

Another sob escaped his body, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. He hadn't eaten for days, despite the council of his loved ones. He didn't care anymore. He didn't want to feel anymore.

The war was going on outside, but his own personal battle was raging inside of him. To go… or not to go… He couldn't possibly abandon his country in its time of need; especially because he was the source of the peoples misery. But what about his own misery? Would nobody listen to him? Would nobody take him into their arms to hold him? Why did he feel so torn; so alone?

"Highness?" a voice called. Startled from his thoughts, Yami quickly stood up, wiping his face. Seto stood in the doorway, his face showing evidence of lack of sleep and fear.

"Seto… Please, come in." Yami whispered softly, moving towards his bed and sitting down. Obeying, Seto quickly moved to his side, pulling him into a tight hug. Surprised at this showing of affection, Yami slowly placed his arms around the other man's shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin.

"Golden One… You have not been yourself ever since… ever since the incident…" Seto stammered. "What did that jackal do to you? Why are you so drawn back from your people?" Yami gazed at the ground, slowly releasing his grip on his cousin.

"Seto… dearest cousin… Is it wrong to think of oneself in times of great strife? Am I merely being selfish?" he started. And then, as if a fountain had been turned on, words gushed from his lips, a river of pent-up emotion he had been dying to let loose on the world. The tears flowed freely as he spoke, louder and faster.

"Seto, I can't bear this burden any longer! I need to get out of here… I need to see Bakura. While we were together I felt so… so perfect! So good about myself! He was so… he was just wonderful and I need to see him. I can't go on with this damned war! I want it all to stop! It needs to stop right now or I… I don't know what I'll do!" he rambled, his body shaking. "I want to see Bakura! I need to see him now! Bring him to me! Find him! Take him by force if you must!! I just… I need his guidance!!!"

Seto stared at him, startled by this outburst of random revelations. For a moment, Seto's mouth hung open, words unable to form. Finally, after a few seconds of ringing silence, Seto stood, rage etched on his features.

"How DARE you? You bring this country into a war that you **promised** we could win and now, in its time of dire need, you wish to leave it unattended? You selfish little BRAT!" Seto cried, slapping Yami across the face. Almost immediately, the guards were on him, tackling Seto to the ground. Yami stood shocked as Seto screamed curses at him from below.

"Bastard!!! You're the only one who wanted this war! You're the cause of Egypt's downfall! And for what? Some damned **thief**?! How can you do this to your people?! To those that are loyal and love you? If you want that damned bandit over your most trusted people, by all means, get out of here! We have no need for a half-assed Pharaoh!!" Seto spit, his eyes locked onto Yami's. "I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!!!" he screamed as the guards pulled him off into the night.

Yami stood motionless, his face burning, his eyes still leaking. Seto… Seto was right… But how could he focus on Egypt when his thoughts were so scattered?

Quickly, Yami turned to his guards, tears stinging his reddened cheek.

"Find the thief Bakura! Bring him to me at once!!" he commanded, a look of determination on his face. He would solve this problem once and for all.

"You devil! You evil little devil!" a mother scolded her young son. "How could you steal that bread? It wasn't right and you're giving it back right now!" she yelled, taking his hand and dragging him back to the street vendor. Bakura watched in slight amusement, a small smirk on his face as he took a bite of the loaf of bread he had gotten the same way as the child had.

Sniffling and crying all the way, the little boy reluctantly gave the bread to the vendor, his lips moving in silent apology. The vendor looked at the mother, then the son, smiled a bit and spoke loudly.

"Little ragamuffin! You're lucky I don't cut your hand right off!" he yelled, holding up a knife. The little boy ran to his mother, sobbing louder than ever.

Well, thought Bakura. That'll teach him to never steal again. His eyes drifted to his own loaf of bread.

_"Bakura!__ You know better than to steal like that!" the young woman scolded, her hands on her hips. "I want you to take that back right this second!" Bakura looked at the ground sadly, his eyes welling up with tears. _

_"I-I'm s-s-sorry, mommy…" he sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "I p-promise it won't h-h-happen again!" he wailed, his tears splashing into the dusty sand. His mother smiled a little, then bent down and looked her son in the eyes. _

_"Bakura… We raised you better than to be a common thief. You will amount to such wonderful things! You know that your father will give you his land… You will find a fine wife and have children of your own. We don't have to steal things from others…" she said softly. "When you are older, you will understand…"_

Hmph, thought Bakura. All I understand now is hunger… and pain… and loss… and… His thoughts began to jumble together. He couldn't make any sense of them save one. Yami… Yami knew about loss. Yami knew about pain. But… not the hunger. Not the passion to feed off of the living; the temptations you are faced with when desperate; the prerogative to ruin all you come in contact with.

Shaking his head, Bakura sighed and walked away… straight into the chest-plate of a royal guard.

Yami paced the hallways, his hands behind his back, his face contorted with impatience. What the hell was taking them so long? It wasn't hard to find a man with long white hair! Gods know that there are so many of them, he thought bitterly.

He sighed long and deep, his mind tired from so much stress. Would it ever end? Would he ever really be at peace? Would being with Bakura again solve his problems? Or… would it only make them worse?

"Let me go, you damned fools!! If I weren't tied up… Oh ho ho, I would tear your flesh to pieces, dammit!!" Yami's ears perked up immediately. He knew that voice… How could he not when it haunted his dreams every night? Turning quickly, he stood face to face with the thief from KuruEruna… It was him.

There he stood. His eyes filled with rage and anger; his hair mussed from the obvious struggle that he had been put through. Bakura glared at him, his mouth forming a sneer, one lone sharpened tooth just barely showing. Yami breathed in deeply, inhaling his scent, inhaling his essence.

"B-bring him to my quarters… I want to be left alone with him. There are… things we must discuss." He breathed quietly, turning his back on the thief and walking toward his room. Yami smirked a little, trying to regain his regal composure. After all… If Bakura could play hard to get, so could he.

"Pharaoh! He is a dangerous criminal! Do you really think it wise…" the guards protested.

"YOU DARE QUESTION ME?" Yami bellowed, his shoulders stiffening. The guards stammered a reply, but argued no more. They followed him as he walked effortlessly into his chambers. Yami turned to them, snapping his fingers in a rude manner.

"Now, boys. Your services are no longer required this evening." He said teasingly. Bakura continued to glare at Yami as they released him, but kept the ropes around his legs and arms. As they departed, Yami turned to face Bakura.

"So… thief. We finally meet again."

Authors Note: shrug A so-so chapter I think. Eh. Hope you all like it. If not erm… well, I'm gonna keep updating as much as possible, so I guess you'll just have to deal with it. Personally I like this storyline a bit better than the other one… more drama you know.


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